Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Riley
Riley sat cross-legged on her childhood bed, laptop balanced on her knees, surrounded by half-empty mugs of hot cocoa and a mountain of crumpled tissues.
The website for the Pine Valley Small Business Bureau stared back at her. She'd been on this page for twenty minutes, cursor hovering over the "Register Your Business" button, unable to click.
Monroe Marketing & Consulting.
It sounded official. Professional. Real.
It also sounded terrifying.
Riley ran her hands through her hair—unwashed, pulled into a messy bun—and forced herself to read through the requirements again. Business license. Tax ID. Insurance. A website. A business plan.
She had most of it drafted already. Had spent all of last night and most of today pouring her energy into something productive instead of sitting around crying over Grant.
Well. She'd done both.
Her hands shook slightly as she typed notes into a new document.
The excitement was there—buzzing under her skin, making her heart race with the possibility of it all.
Her own business. Helping local shops and farms tell their stories.
Working with people she'd known her whole life. Building something that mattered.
But underneath the excitement sat a heavy stone of sadness that wouldn't budge.
Grant.
Riley's throat tightened. She took another sip of cocoa—lukewarm now, the marshmallows long dissolved—and tried to focus on the spreadsheet in front of her.
Potential Clients - Pine Valley.
Mrs. Henderson's jam business. The hardware store. The bakery. The—
She couldn't type it. Couldn't even think it without her chest aching.
The Christmas tree farm.
Riley closed her eyes and pressed her palms against them until she saw stars.
One day. It had only been one day since the fight in the barn, and it felt like a lifetime. One day of Grant not texting. Not calling. Not showing up at her parents' house to yell at her or demand answers or anything.
She'd given him the space he asked for. But God, it was killing her.
Riley opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, her fingers absently twisting a strand of hair that had escaped her bun. The late afternoon light filtered through her childhood curtains—the same curtains she'd had since high school, faded now but familiar.
How had she been so stupid?
Fake dating. What kind of idiotic plan was that? She should have just dealt with the teasing. Should have laughed it off like she always did. Should have never dragged Grant into her mess.
Except it hadn't felt like a mess when they were together. It had felt like coming home.
Riley's phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. She grabbed it too quickly, hope flaring in her chest.
Not Grant.
Just the group chat.
The disappointment was sharp enough to make her eyes sting.
Her phone buzzed again. And again. And again.
Riley groaned and grabbed it.
Pine Valley Legends
Hannah: Girls night. NOW.
Emily: We're not taking no for an answer.
Jenna: Riley Monroe, answer your phone.
Riley: I'm fine. Just busy.
Hannah: Busy doing what? The boys are having a bonfire. We are having girls night.
Riley: Busy working.
Emily: You can work later. We're coming over.
Riley: Please don't.
Jenna: Too late. We're already in the car.
Hannah: With champagne.
Riley: I don't want champagne.
Emily: You NEED champagne.
Jenna: We'll be there in 10.
Riley dropped her phone on the bed and buried her face in her pillow.
She didn't want to see anyone. Didn't want to explain what happened or listen to them tell her it would all work out or accept their pity.
She just wanted to be left alone to plan her business and drink cocoa and pretend her heart wasn't shattered into a million pieces.
But this was Hannah, Emily, and Jenna. They didn't take no for an answer.
Exactly ten minutes later, Riley heard the front door open downstairs, followed by her mom's delighted greeting and the sound of shoes on hardwood.
"Riley!" Hannah's voice echoed up the stairs. "We're coming up whether you want us to or not!"
Riley sat up, wiping at her eyes, and tried to look like she hadn't been crying for two days straight.
She failed.
The door burst open and all three of her friends piled in—Hannah carrying champagne and glasses, Emily with a bakery box, Jenna with a determined expression that meant business.
"Oh, honey." Emily's face crumpled when she saw Riley. "You look terrible."
"Thanks," Riley muttered.
"I mean it in the nicest way possible." Emily set down the bakery box and pulled Riley into a hug.
Hannah popped the champagne cork with practiced efficiency. "Okay. Talk. What happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Too bad." Jenna sat on the bed and handed Riley a glass of champagne. "You've been radio silent for two days. We're worried."
"I'm fine."
"You're clearly not fine," Hannah said, surveying the cocoa mugs and laptop and general disaster that was Riley's room. "Did you and Grant have a fight?"
Riley's laugh came out bitter. "You could say that."
"What did he say?" Emily asked gently.
“He won’t talk to me,” she replied as tears welled up in her eyes.
The three women exchanged looks.
"Okay," Jenna said carefully. "Back up. Start from the beginning. That doesn’t sound like Grant at all."
Riley took a long drink of champagne. Then another. The bubbles fizzed on her tongue, but they did nothing to settle the anxiety churning in her stomach.
She set down the glass and said the thing she'd been avoiding saying out loud.
"It was fake. The whole thing. Grant and me. We were fake dating."
Silence.
Hannah's champagne glass paused halfway to her lips. Emily's eyes went wide. Jenna just watched Riley with that careful, assessing look that meant she was processing.
"I know," Riley continued, the words tumbling out now that she'd started.
"I know it's stupid. But before the reunion, you all kept teasing me about being so independent.
About always being alone. About being too busy for a relationship.
" Her voice rose, trembling slightly. "It was this running joke—Riley Monroe, too focused on her career to settle down.
And I was so tired of it. So tired of being the punchline.
So Grant offered to pretend to be the guy I said I was bringing, which was fake, I said yes. "
She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. The champagne glass sat forgotten on the nightstand. Her friends were still silent, each with varying expressions of shock.
"We agreed it would just be for the reunion.
Just enough to get everyone to stop. But then it worked so well, and people were so happy for us, and we just..
.kept going." Riley's voice cracked. "Through all the holiday events.
Christmas. Everything. Except somewhere along the way it stopped being fake. At least for me."
More silence.
Riley couldn't look at them. Couldn't face whatever disappointment or judgment was coming.
"I fell for him," she whispered. "All over again. Like I was sixteen and stupid and completely in love, just like I was in high school. And I thought maybe—maybe—he felt the same way. But then I screwed everything up."
Then Hannah started laughing.
Each of them glanced back and forth at each other, and Hannah shrugged, as if she were acknowledging some secret Riley wasn’t in on.
Riley's head snapped up. "What?"
"We knew," Hannah said, her smile gentle despite the laughter. "About the fake dating. We knew from the beginning."
Riley blinked. "What?"
"We knew it was fake," Emily confirmed. "From the beginning."
"You—how?"
"Riley." Jenna's smile was soft. "We all live here. We'd know if Grant was actually dating someone. The whole town would know. You can't keep secrets in Pine Valley. Grant has been Pine Valley’s most eligible bachelor since you two broke up."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because you two clearly belonged together," Hannah said. "Fake or not, the way you looked at each other? That was clearly real. We figured you'd work it out eventually."
Riley's eyes filled with tears. "I ruined it. I missed the pageant and he was so hurt and angry, and when I tried to explain, he wouldn't let me. He just kept saying it was fake anyway and that he should have known better."
"Oh, Riley." Emily squeezed her hand.
"I quit my job," Riley said, her voice breaking.
"I quit because I realized that life—the city, the job, all of it—wasn't what I wanted.
I wanted to come home. I wanted to be here.
I wanted him." She wiped at her eyes. "And I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen.
He was so convinced I'd chosen work over him that he wouldn't let me finish a sentence. "
"That stubborn idiot," Hannah muttered.
"He's not—"
"Yes, he is. He's stubborn and proud and probably sitting at Ryan's bonfire right now sulking just as hard as you are." Hannah stood up, that dangerous glint in her eye that meant she was planning something. "Which is why we're going to crash boys' night."
Riley's head snapped up. "What? No."
"Yes," Jenna said firmly. "You need to talk to him. Actually talk to him. Make him listen."
"He asked for space—"
"It's been a day. That's enough space." Emily pulled Riley to her feet. "Come on. Get dressed. We're going."
"I can't just show up—"
"You absolutely can," Hannah interrupted. "Because if we leave you two alone, you're both going to be miserable forever. Grant's too proud to come to you—I mean I think he would eventually—and you're too scared of pushing him to go to him. So we're taking matters into our own hands."
"But—"
"No buts." Jenna was already rummaging through Riley's closet. "What do you want to wear? Something cute but not trying too hard. We want 'I'm here to fix this' not 'I'm desperate but also, ‘don’t forget how hot I am, you can’t let me go.'"
"I am desperate," Riley protested weakly.